contemplando
                  
                  cómo
se passa la vida,
                  
                  cómo
se viene la muerte
                  
                  tan callando;
                  
                  cúan
presto se va el plazer. . . .
                  Jorge Manrique,
Coplas por la muerte de su padre
                  
                  1.
                  
                  wages murder
the first caress
                  
                  resplendent
in the portal
                  
                  salt on
my cheek
                  
                  dry timber
set ablaze
                  
                  each night
robbed of all that I love
                  
                  2.
                  
                  the
photograph
in evidence
                  
                  as many
Hitlers as wanted
                  
                  the lamp
the piano the lecture
                  
                  having
replaced the map
                  
                  wine breast
written down
                  
                  3.
                  
                  the diagram
of the village
                  
                  constrains
one to anguish
                  
                  the bird
flits into the dance
                  
                  under a
Western-movie sky
                  
                  there's
that echo for every shout
                  
                  4.
                  
                  we had
the dream of water
                  
                  we didn't
come up for air
                  
                  we could
see clearly
                  
                  you said
strip me
                  
                  you said
pull me close
                  
                  5.
                  
                  a bitter
draft from a broken cup
                  
                  O countrymen
washed tall
                  
                  naked in
sunlight in innocence
                  
                  reclaimed
to the warm embrace
                  
                  genocidal
recurrent thanksgiving
                  
                  6.
                  
                  "C'est
un homme
                  
                  ou une
pierre
                  
                  ou un arbre
                  
                  qui va
commencer
                  
                  le
quatrième
chant."
                  
                  7.
                  
                  from the
rubble of information
                  
                  from the
bottom of the raised glass
                  
                  came this
one man speaking
                  
                  "la belle
langue de mon siècle"
                  
                  no more
                  
                  Notes
                  
                  Debord
made the first French translation of Jorge Manrique's Coplas por la
muerte
de su padre (Jorge Manrique, Stances sur la mort de son père,
Editions
Champ Libre: Paris 1980).
                  
                  The text
of the sixth stanza is taken verbatim from the fourth canto of Les
Chants
de Maldoror by Lautréamont, a favorite writer of Debord's: "A
man
or a stone or a tree is going to begin the fourth canto."
                  
                  The penultimate
line of the seventh stanza is from Debord's Mémoires (privately
printed in 1958; reprinted by Belles Lettres: Paris 1993), the last
line
of which reads: "Je voulais parler la belle langue de mon
siècle."
[I wanted to speak my century's beautiful language.] In his collage
text,
this was the only line that Debord himself authored.